


Nightmare Girl

by xiuxi



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Bedsharing, Cameos, F/F, F/M, Groundhog dreams, Missing Scene, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiuxi/pseuds/xiuxi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some women have a lot of dreams, and some women have almost none. Saber belonged to the latter category, at least until she was summoned as a servant in the Forth Holy Grail War. </p>
<p>As the dreams increase in frequency, the question arises whether there is something there for her other than the usual struggle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [failsafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsafe/gifts).



> Thanks to my fabulous beta, [shadow_lover](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/pseuds/shadow_lover)!

Saber woke up on a stained mattress in a place she didn’t know. The situation didn’t bother her much, because she was used to stains and the toil and disorientation that come from being on the road. Grim looking walls surrounded her, either of stone or concrete. She couldn’t tell which from where she was lying. It was all dark, apart from an unidentifiable stream of light illuminating part of the floor. Maybe a door was ajar somewhere. 

Saber stood up. She felt like she needed to follow the light and see what was up ahead. She knew that she needed to do something, or needed to find something, but she didn’t know what. She felt a little bit more disoriented and unsteady than usual. There was something weird about this place. 

She fumbled around for a while in the darkness and found nothing. She was completely alone. Her hands trailed lightly over the walls until she located a heavy door. She steadied herself, leaned forward, pushed it open, and stumbled out. A long, narrow corridor stretched before her. There were candles on the walls in tall, ornamental candelabras. Other than that, the walls were completely empty. She thought to herself that she must be inside some sort of castle. 

She followed the corridor down until she came upon a small staircase, leading up to another door. She had a feeling, or maybe it was more of a premonition, that she should open it. Light streamed in and hit her in the face. She felt momentarily blinded, but when that feeling passed, she realized that she had escaped the basement and ascended up to the main floor. A brighter, livelier corridor lay before her feet and she darted excitedly and effortlessly through it. She wanted to explore, to see, to conquer, and to find whatever she was looking for. She drew her blade and ran - almost danced - over the large tiles. 

She ended up in a large dining room. A table was laid out for a feast, but it seemed like nobody had bothered to make any use of it. The china was what Saber would call modern, or at least modernish. Wine glasses instead of cups; knife, fork and spoon in some silvery material, porcelain, napkins. There were wine bottles on the table, but nothing to eat. The table looked vaguely abandoned and slightly sad, and Saber felt a pang of emotion. 

In the farthest corner of the room was a giant sculpture of a horse in some kind of woodlike material. Its hind legs were lifted high up in the air and the look on its face was rather ferocious. It almost looked as it were alive. Saber looked at the horse with amazement, and wondered to herself what kind of dreamlike place she had landed in. 

Her eyes darted over the walls in dining room until she found something else she could study. It was a huge painting with a heavy wooden frame. She was feeling strangely drawn to it. It was like being pushed by an unseen, powerful force towards an object that she knew would mean something to her. And since there were few things that actually mattered to Saber, this could be a potential important thing.

The first thing Saber noted about the painting was that it was some kind of period piece, set in a place that at least was reminiscent of Ancient Greece. A crowd of people were sitting in front of a marble structure. Urns of wine were scattered amongst them and they looked like they were resting. Some hoplites were standing next to the columns, their spears resting against the wall and their helmets gleaming in the midday sun. A group of women sat on the ground, only partially clothed and with visible breasts that made Saber blush a little. The focal point of the painting was a man standing in the midst of the crowd, stark naked except for a sheet covering the more vital parts. The man was huge, with bright red hair and a bulging yet chiseled body. He was speaking to the crowd, who looked towards him in adoration. There was something about him that commanded attention, not only from the crowd who surrounded him, but also from onlookers of the painting. Saber couldn’t take her eyes off him. This was not a mere mortal; this was a hero. A king. 

Saber suddenly felt the desire to reach out to him, to connect with him. Her hands moved towards the portrait. She touched the uneven surface and her fingertips could feel the residue of oil paint. She traced the outline of the man with her fingers and touched his red hair. She laid her whole hand over his body, but she couldn’t feel anything. There was no connection there. Overcome with a profound sadness, Saber let go of the portrait and lowered her gaze and sighed. 

At the bottom of the frame was a golden plaque. She read the words. “ _Alexander preparing for battle_. Angelica Kauffmann. 1797.” Saber was a bit taken aback. She had imagined that king as an entirely different person. He was supposed to be a short man of different proportions. The hair was wrong. The beard was wrong. And what was this about preparing for battle? This was not a king who was preparing for battle; this was a king enjoying himself in the midst of half-clothed women and friends. It was not the kind of battle Saber could recognize; for her, war was lonely and cold and dark. There were no blistering sun or wine or companionship there, only searing pain that one had to bear alone. 

She felt an unusual sense of disappointment. She had expected something else, even though she wasn’t sure of what. There was nothing for her here. 

She sat down on the floor beneath the painting and closed her eyes. Her body was tired and her mind was not entirely there. 

The world went dark and disorienting, but then she could see the first strands of morning light as she woke up in her bed at the Einzbern Castle. She felt strangely affected by the dream, but she decided that she wasn’t going to worry for too long. She had more important things to prepare for. 

 

***

 

As she went to bed the following night she was hoping for dreamless soothing night, but when she closed her eyes she felt restless. These modern beds were too soft for her liking and she felt uncomfortable and jittery. She tossed and turned for a while and wondered if she’d ever fall asleep, but eventually fatigue overcame her, and she sank into her pillow. 

She woke up on a stained mattress in a basement she knew she had seen before. It felt more like a prison than an actual place where people were living. Momentarily, Saber felt trapped, but she steadied herself and rose from the mattress. She ran towards the door, opened it and stopped. Warily, she looked around. Something in the castle - or whatever she was trapped in - was different from last time. She sensed a presence. She drew her sword and slowly moved through the hallway towards the staircase and the door. 

As she walked she kept her gaze steady and her other senses awake. She could not hear any footsteps, but she knew for sure that she was being followed. Was she going to be attacked? She didn’t think so, but you never knew. The presence felt menacing somehow, and she had a feeling that it wanted something from her. Saber was prepared for a fight, but that was nothing unusual. Saber was always prepared for a fight. 

Instead of moving up the staircase, she opened a door to her left. This was entirely on a whim, which surprised Saber, because she usually didn’t act on things like whims. She looked around and could see a couple of washing machines and a dryer. _These modern devices seemed awfully practical_ , she thought to herself. _They must be greatly reducing the demand for household servants_. 

She was not alone here, she sensed. She looked over her shoulder and then straight ahead. Someone was there but she could not see them. 

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She froze, then slowly turned around to see what there. Nothing. Just empty space and darkness. Saber felt deeply uneasy. Something was wrong. 

A white clothesline hung from one wall to the other. The perfect, straight line of stark white was only disturbed by a lonely, long-forgotten sweater that was hanging from it. There was something eerie about this room with its naked concrete walls and empty washing appliances. It was a normal, functional room, but yet so utterly deserted. 

Slowly, the clothesline started to vibrate. Its movement was delicate, but soon enough it started to pick up speed. The lonely sweater fell down. The vibrations of the cord were even at first, but as the time went on a part of the clothesline started bulging. It almost looked like the line was a whip, where the lash was making wave after wave as if it was moved by an invisible handle. 

Saber stared at the moving clothesline, not knowing what to do. She wondered if the situation would unfold into something more dangerous. The basement was eerily silent, but as the clothesline picked up speed, the sound of the line clashing to the wall filled the surroundings. Saber gained her usual composure and readied her sword. With a shift strike she split the moving cord and ended its waving tantrum. The two split lines fell limply down, but changed direction just before they hit the floor. With remarkable speed and force, the clothesline went directly for her throat. It felt just as if two dark hands had emerged from a dark, forgotten place and were trying to strangle her. 

Saber was not unused to danger, she had known pain and she knew when to react and when to stand still. She deftly bent the cords upwards from her throat and forced them away from her body. 

Then she ran. She launched herself into the hallways, over the small staircase and through the door. She didn’t even look back as she heard the door slam shut. The castle felt more like a disorganized maze than an actual house now. She moved purely on instinct. She ran through hallway after hallway, her steps echoing with determined thuds. She dazedly saw room after room after room, but she didn’t want to stop until she had put everything behind her. 

When she came to, she discovered herself in a small parlor. As she was catching her breath, she looked around. What was this place, really? 

A couple of dusty antiques were scattered around the walls in a disorderly fashion. Small oil paintings were placed in well-chosen locations and the light was dim and inviting. The innermost wall was mostly taken up by a massive mirror with a golden ornamental frame. Saber approached the mirror with caution and care, because she felt drawn to it in some vaguely familiar but still inexplicable way. She studied her own reflection in the mirror, her sweaty brow, her golden plaits and blue-green eyes. She could see her reflection diverging into two parts, still adjoined but moving in different directions. It looked like a struggle, Saber thought to herself. The two Sabers didn’t meet her eyes. 

There were shadows in the background, and Saber looked on in amazement as the shadows took form into recognizable human beings. There must have been hundreds of them, all with different features, but yet uniformly dressed in black. Saber felt a vague kinship with the shadows, which transformed into growing unease as they all reached out their hands towards her reflections.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she looked around, but there was no one there. Increasingly uneasy, she watched the reflections in the mirror as the shadows crept up on her. She could see their faces, grim and demanding, beside her own. They didn’t speak, but then again they didn’t have too. Saber knew that they wanted something from her. As a hand touched her hair, that feeling became too much too bear, and she raised her sword and struck the mirror in half. 

Light emerged from the crack as the glass shattered to the floor. The shadows dissolved into the bright light and Saber was alone, yet again. She leaned on her sword and stood there for a while. 

 

***

 

She woke up in her soft bed under the same heavy duvet. The sheets were soaked in sweat, as if she had been out running the previous night. Morning light streamed in underneath the heavy curtains. She blinked and felt utterly exhausted. 

“What’s the matter, Saber?” Irisviel asked over their breakfast as she poured the tea into grey, delicate teacups. Her voice was filled with something that read as genuine concern to Saber. 

“Nothing,” she answered. “I’ve just had a couple of bad dreams.”

 

***

 

They sat in silence in the taxi. Irisviel seemed to be content just by looking out of the window and taking in the scenery. Saber was studying her own outfit intently, wondering what sort of connotations it had in this new and foreign world. They were going to the airport, a place where Saber never had been, and they were going to travel far away to a different country that none of them had sat foot in. The world had certainly gotten bigger since Saber last saw it, and had she not been entirely focused on the task at hand, she would have loved to explore it. 

The airplane itself was a large and wondrous machine, filled with modern appliances and servants in formal attire that tended to your every need. 

“Can commoners and nobles alike travel like this in this age and time?” Saber asked, curiously. “Is every flight filled with such luxury and comfort?”

“I don’t know, Saber,” Irisviel replied. “I think that they have a less comfortable place that they call coach. Kiritsugu have told me about it. He has spent a lot of time in planes like these.”

She paused.

“He wanted to see the world,” Irisviel continued. “And to fight to make it better.”

Her voice trailed off. 

“He still does. He has not been traveling so much since Illya was born, but he still fights.”

And then, as an afterthought: 

“We all do, don’t we?”

Saber thoroughly enjoyed her meal, and she could hear Irisviel giggling in delight over the dessert in the background. The sky was almost orange when she looked out through the window. She could see some wispy clouds underneath and she almost wanted to touch them to see if they were as soft as they looked. There were so many weird things in this world, and so many new things to discover, but Saber knew she couldn’t dwell on them. She had a job to do. 

She lowered her chair to get some rest. She needed to be in prime condition for her arrival in Japan. As she drifted off, she wished for rest and peace. 

 

***

 

She woke up on a stained mattress in the same basement, and she couldn’t help feeling a bit frustrated. She rose and readied her sword just in case. She walked straight ahead through the basement and up to the main floor. As she emerged in the hallway, her curiosity awakened and she began to explore her surroundings. There was something she needed to find here or something, or someone, she needed to see. The hallway was filled with different looking doors, all looking very inviting. She tried to open them, but all but one was locked. 

She opened it and found herself in a room illuminated by a large crystal chandelier. The room was empty, except for a couple of paintings of stern looking ancestors on the wall and a giant staircase leading up to yet another floor. 

She swiftly scaled the staircase and emerged in yet another room. The room had a very different tone compared to the rest of the castle. It looked like it belonged to the same 20th century that Saber had lived in the past few days. A small television set was the centerpiece of the room, images still flickering on the screen with the volume set to mute. It was surrounded by a grey, well-worn sofa and a couple of matching easy chairs. Saber felt too restless to be lounging, so she quickly passed by and entered the room beyond. 

It was a little girl’s room with pink roses on white wallpaper and framed posters of horses decorating the wall. A white desk was leaning next to a large window, with long forgotten homework still lingering on top. It was a beautiful room, particularly if you were eight years old and loved horses, but Saber was still taken aback by the thought of actual children living in this castle. 

On a cupboard in the corner was a collection of dolls. Some of the dolls were quite old and looked fairly expensive, with frilly dresses and porcelain heads. Others were lifelike models of babies decked out in tiny outfits clearly meant for actual babies. One section of the bed was reserved for “ethnic” dolls: a Bavarian beauty in full Oktoberfest gear, a tribal warrior from some generic place in Africa, a female Viking with pointy horns on her hat and a classical Beefeater doll straight from a very touristy part in London. 

Saber’s gaze fastened on a slim doll with black hair and heavy stage make-up. She recognized the style to be that of a Kabuki actor. Something Japanese – how fitting! It was a male doll, she thought, but very androgynous and heavily painted. There was something about the doll that made her want to stay with him for a while. She found herself studying his face, with the thick, stylized blue-tinted makeup that perfectly highlighted the eyes and the ornamental dress with a white belt that held several katanas. She looked the doll in the eyes and blinked at him. The doll winked back. Saber felt slightly alarmed, but got the feeling – a premonition of sorts – that she shouldn’t run away. She lifted the doll up towards the light to get a better look at him. The doll squirmed in her grip, like an unruly child not wanting to be dressed by his mother. She sat him down, firmly, on the cupboard. The doll rose unsteadily on his legs. A throaty cackle emerged from his lips. It was one of these sounds that could have been horrifying had it not sounded so rehearsed and theatrical. Saber looked him curiously in the eyes again. 

“Jeanne?” he whispered. There was something about that that made her feel uneasy. She pulled him by his hair and lifted his chin up with her fingertips. The doll struggled underneath her grasp. She tightened her grip on his hair with her strong hand. The doll struck out towards her and thrashed his head violently back and forth until he fell down on the flat, white surface below. For an instant, a couple of seconds at most, he struck a pose – some kind of warrior pose – that simultaneously worried and awed Saber. A wire got pulled out of thin air and pulled the doll up. He flew towards the roof and then, suddenly, vanished entirely from Saber’s field of view. She stood still, amazed, a tuft of black hair still in her hand. Without much thought she pocketed it. 

She couldn’t remember how she fell asleep again, but she woke up with a jolt, on the same airplane that she left for her dream. She reached for her pocket, and inside, just as she thought, was a small amount of coarse, black hair. 

 

***

 

Saber was almost reeling in the car back from the fight. She watched Irisviel driving with what could best be described as amused horror. Irisviel was giggling happily, and Saber could only sit in silence and observe, mostly because she deeply wanted Irisviel to enjoy herself. When the servant had appeared, however, she did react at once. Protecting _her_ was her duty, and Saber was the kind of person who never neglected her duties. 

The meeting with the servant unfolded fast and Saber did not have much time to think during the whole encounter. Afterwards she sat in silence and collected her own thoughts, while Irisviel was dodging yet another car that had the temerity to exist in the same line as her. They exited the car together, Saber deep in thought and Irisviel enjoying the adrenaline rush she got from driving.

“Wait,” Saber said suddenly. “It’s him.”

Utterly confused and still giddy, Irisviel turned to look at her. 

“Who?” she asked. 

“I’ve been having dreams. Strange dreams.”

Irisviel was looking at her with a hint of concern. “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”

“Strange, repetitive dreams. I am in a castle, a castle that I’ve never even seen before and I am walking around, looking at things, and sometimes I get attacked.”

Saber stopped herself, well aware that dreams belonged to that category of conversational topics that either bored or confused the listener. 

“Please go on, Saber,” Irisviel prompted. “It sounds like this is something that has been very upsetting to you.”

“That man – that servant that we just met ,” Saber continued. “He was in my dream, although he looked completely different. He was a doll in my dream, but he was giving off the same kind of energy as he did here. And he called me Jeanne. The doll called me Jeanne.”

Irisviel looked utterly puzzled. “That servant … was a doll?” she asked. 

“Look,” Saber said impatiently. She raffled through her pocket and dug up the black tuft of hair. 

“This is from my dream. From the doll in my dream.“

Irisviel looked at her outstretched hands with a slightly worried look on her face. “This is out of the ordinary, isn’t it? This must be the work of magic.”

“Maybe”, Saber shrugged. “It could be magic. But it is hard to tell with any certainty.” 

“I might be inexperienced in the ways of the world, but for all intents and purposes I am still an Einzbern,” Irisviel said, and her tone had something harsh to it. “This is clearly the work of magic.”

“Fair enough,” Saber said. “But why was this servant in my dream? And a doll? What significance does it have? And what purpose does it serve?”

“Have you seen any other servants in those dreams of yours?” Irisviel asked. 

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “But wait – the painting. There was a large painting of that servant of the Rider class, that redheaded Alexander in my first dream. I didn’t meet him in person, I just looked at him in that painting. And the second one, I wonder, could the attackers been Assassin?”

“But Assassin is dead,” Irisviel interjected. 

“He wasn’t dead in my dream, that’s for certain.”

“So. That’s three dreams with one servant each. Interesting. But still, we must put a stop to it. Our work, Kiritsugu’s work – and yours too – is too important for this. We simply cannot afford distractions at this stage.” 

“Maybe I could just stop sleeping. Go into spirit form and just rest without closing my eyes.”

“That will not do, Saber. You need your rest. We must find the mechanism behind all of this and destroy it.”

Saber took a step back, and just looked at Irisviel. She was enthusiastic and determined, and her red eyes were ablaze with something that nearly approached passion. Saber thought to herself that she was pretty like this, prettier than usual and definitely more alive. 

“There is not much we can do at this stage,” she said tentatively, trying to focus at the matter of hand. 

“I will think,” Irisviel said intently. “And I will read. Do not worry, Saber, I will find a solution for you.”

She smiled happily and Saber tried give her the best smile she could muster up in return. But she was injured, she desperately needed to rest and she couldn’t help feeling a little bit worried. And she had a hard time smiling under any circumstances. 

She withdrew to her quarters in the new mansion and lay own on the bed. She focused on keeping her eyes open, but soon enough fragments of the recent fight, the swirling lancers and the red-haired king floated around in her vision. It got progressively more chaotic and dark before Saber’s brain shut down and catapulted her into some kind of rest. 

 

***

 

The same mattress, the same stain and the same sense of unease. Saber certainly had begun to know her way around the basement by now. She reminded herself of the pattern of the dreams and she vowed to try to find out more about them before she woke up. She unsheathed her sword right away. This was a bad time for unpleasant surprises of any kind. She exited the basement with determination, because she knew that the more interesting scraps of information would be up above. 

She walked straight down the main corridor towards the dining room, but stopped in front of an intriguing door she had not recognized before. She immediately decided to try to open it. The handle was icy cold to her touch and rock hard as if it was made out of iron or stone. It was a rather large room, dim and dusty like most of the others, but with a sense of slight order to it. Saber recognized the rococo furniture, the usual assortment of portraits and still lifes on the wall and the antique lamps from the other rooms in the castle. On the right hand of the room, next to the wall, was a large sofa. Saber almost jumped when she saw someone sitting there. It was a man, resting with his eyes closed and his arms outstretched. Saber’s heart responded with a bit of a thud when she saw who he was. 

It was the servant called Lancer, whom she had met once before in battle. Saber tiptoed towards the sofa; she didn’t want to disturb him and she didnät want to be seen. 

She stood at the end of the sofa with her sword drawn, but as she got a better look at his face she slowly sheathed it. _He has the bone structure of a demon_ , she thought to herself as she studied the lines of his face. She knew that she probably shouldn’t be staring, but somehow she couldn’t help herself. The pull towards him was the same she had previously felt with other servants, but this was different somehow, more organic and somewhat throbbing. He looked so calm with his eyes closed, while Saber felt increasingly more tense. Turning away and not looking at him seemed like an good idea, but then he opened his eyes and smiled towards her. 

He looked her in the eyes and she blushed. She felt exposed. She didn’t speak, because she didn’t know what to say, and what point was there in pointless greetings anyway? He just looked at her, still smiling, and it made her feel something inside. She slowly walked towards to the spot on the sofa where he motioned her to sit. Cautiously, she sat down. 

Without uttering as much as a single word, he kissed her. His hands were lightly touching her hair and then trailed to her cheek and her jaw. They kissed again, intense and tender at the same time. She touched his shoulders and let her hands glide over his upper body, enjoying its firmness and muscle. He let his hands move further down towards her chest. 

She desperately wanted him to touch her everywhere; she needed to feel him all over her body and she wanted him to want her. It was not so much a matter of desire, as the need for human contact. She could sense the same kind of longing in him, perceiving his hunger as she was reminded of her own. 

She touched his beautiful, pretty-boy face as he undressed her. His hands were gentle, but determined, and Saber couldn’t help but moan at his slightest touch. Her hand slid over his torso, opening up buttons and loosening clothes when needed, and down below where she could really _feel_ him. He was hard already, but smiled and closed his eyes when she caressed him. His hands slid between her legs, underneath her underpants, making her wet and shivery. She wanted him inside of her now; she desperately needed that kind of friction. She steered his cock towards her wetness and a moan escaped her lips when he entered her. 

Saber was a cautious woman who’d never let her emotions decide anything for her, but she was losing herself in this encounter. His cock was so hard, and his touch was so soft and his face was almost angelic and she could feel something building up inside of her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her breath sped up as that feeling overpowered her, and her moans became loader and hoarser as she came. 

Neither of them said a word as they were lying next to each other. Saber wondered if he was enjoying this – this closeness - as much as she did. She had no way of knowing, but he didn’t move and he didn’t leave and his hand was still caressing the strands of her hair. She kissed him on the cheek, just next to his birthmark, and held him. 

 

***

 

Saber didn’t smile much, but when she woke up she actually did smile. As far as dreams go, the one last night wasn’t so bad. And it wasn’t just a dream exactly, because Saber could feel that she was still slightly wet from last night’s encounter. But at the same time she was a little concerned, because it looked like the dreams had no intent on ceasing. Even if the last one had been satisfying, the other ones had been less than pleasant. She knew that she probably should tell Irisviel about the dreams, but in this case she didn’t know what to say. There was no reason to involve Kiritsugu, and he wasn’t talking to her anyway. 

She broached the subject over breakfast.

“I had another dream,” she said casually. 

“About what?” Irisviel asked, smiling to herself as she poured the tea. 

“About the mansion. You know, the dreams with the servants.”

“Oh no.” Irisviel looked worried. “It’s not fair that you should be dealing with this, with your injury and all. And now I have no way of healing you. Those dreams of yours have to be stopped somehow.” 

Irisviel looked intently at Saber, her eyes filled with concern and overall emotion. Saber sometimes found it hard to deal with her. She was not used to dealing with people who displayed such intensity and she preferred not to get involved with human emotions. Worse still, Irisviel was not her subject, she was her equal. Saber was not used to equals, and she was especially not used to equals who _cared_. 

“Stopping it would be convenient, but we have no means to do so,” Saber said, trying to inject some formality into the conversation. 

“I have been looking into some magical books,” Irisviel said. “It is highly likely we are dealing with some kind of alchemy. “

“Alchemy? What does that mean, exactly?”

“I don’t know yet,” Irisviel said and her face fell a bit. “But I do think that there is someone or something that is toying with you. Someone dangerous. It worries me, Saber.”

“I can handle myself.” Saber shrugged. “Whatever it is, it will be dealt with in time.”

“We don’t have time. We are in the midst of a battle, and we have to win. For your sake. And for Kiritsugu. For all of us.”

“I know,” Saber said. “I too wish to win this battle. But worry and concern don’t win wars, action does.” 

Irisviel looked at her and she smiled gently. “I do not know much about wars, but I will fight for you, Saber. I’m going to read some more and then we will see this through.” 

And with that, the conversation ended and Saber was left to her own devices. She lingered a long time at the breakfast table and wondered what the following night would bring. 

 

***

 

She woke up on a stained mattress in a place she was very familiar with. She sighed and promptly rose. The last encounter had been pleasant, albeit somewhat disturbing, but she never knew what to expect from this place. She made her way out of the basement and said a silent prayer. She didn’t have the energy to deal with something nasty. Besides, she should be looking for clues to get out of this godforsaken place. 

The energy in the castle seemed somewhat different tonight. There was something in the air that made Saber feel a little bit unsettled. She was going through rooms at a steady pace, looking for clues or hints or something that could tell her where she was and how to get out of there. 

She was going in one of the smaller rooms when she discovered that the light was flickering. It was a tiny, subtle blinking at first, maybe just a millisecond or two, but Saber still noticed. She had well-calibrated senses for these sorts of things and she could practically smell danger when she encountered it. She looked for the light sources first, a large lamp in the ceiling, some small bulbs attached to ornamental figurines in the corners. The lights flickered more intensely now, the pace higher and more menacing somehow. It was like someone was toying with her, and that annoyed Saber. If somebody wanted a fight, she would give them a fight, but sneaky, manipulate taunting was just dishonest. 

And then the lights went out. Saber was fumbling in the dark, trying to regain her footing. She needed to find a switch as soon as possible. She found a wall and approached it tentatively with her hands outstretched. The switch was hard to find ( _a more civilized culture would just have used torches_ , Saber thought to herself), but she found something that felt like plastic underneath one of those heavy-framed paintings that the house was littered with. 

The lights came on. She turned around, and the light went off again. She turned back to the wall again and turned the lights on. As soon as she let go of the switch, the light flashed yet again. Saber turned around again, angrily guarding the switch with both of her hands. She had fought several wars, and she knew her hands to be strong – stronger than those of any man she had known. Still, she could feel an invisible force pressing down on her hands, slowly pressing down the switch, which hinged closer and closer to the annoyingly impenetrable darkness. “This won’t do,” Saber said to herself, fairly loudly in case there was an intruder listening. Then she grabbed the nearest chair, swiftly broke off one the legs, and headed towards the room where she knew a fireplace was waiting. And just like that – a torch. 

She held the torch in one hand and her sword in the other. She wanted to be prepared, because even though the force toying with the electricity seemed mischievous rather than malicious, she could sense an undercurrent of resentment from it. And she didn’t like that at all. Apart from her makeshift torch, the mansion was dark now and it felt even more empty than usual. Saber wandered around – more slowly now – still trying to find something that could tell her something about this place. 

She checked the kitchen and some of the main bedrooms, then headed towards the master bathroom. Maybe she should take a bath, to calm down and soothe herself. Or maybe she shouldn’t, because it would surely be a waste of time in this dreamscape. But the bathtub looked so inviting. Moreover, she could feel the same kind of pull as she had felt in dreams past. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something here for her. 

She fetched some candelabras from the dining room and lit the candles. There was a linen cabinet next to the kitchen which held some unused towels, that much to her surprise still smelled rather good. She ran the tap until temperature was right and undressed hurriedly. She hoped to god that there was no lurking servant who could see her now. The water was warm and inviting and Saber felt that she needed the relaxation. She let her body sink into the warm water, downing her whole body from head to toe so that only the tip of her nose was visible. It was delightful, and just what she wanted right now. She lifted the head up a bit and stared at the bathroom tiles while thinking of nothing. 

With three distinct, audible puffs of air, all of the candles were blown out at once. Saber sat straight up, tensely listening for any noises. She would get out of the tub, but she didn’t want to walk around naked and she wasn’t sure she could find her clothes in the dark. She could still hear the tap running in the background, but apart from that – nothing. She started to shiver, but she didn’t know whether it was the water or the heightened awareness of danger. She became acutely aware that she needed to get out of this tub. 

With a harsh noise, all of the lights turned on and a sharp brightness filled Saber’s vision. It was disorienting, and for a couple of seconds she couldn’t see at all. When she looked down she could see that the water she had been lying in had turned a dirty shade of greyish black and that black water still was streaming straight down from the tap. There was no question about it now. Someone was here, present in this mansion, and that someone wanted to hurt her. Saber opened her mouth to scream, filling the bathroom with noise as the tub filled up with the dark, filthy liquid. 

And then her surroundings faded from her view and she could feel that she was drifting into a state of unconsciousness where she desperately did not want to be. 

When she came to, she was lying on her bed, shivering, her clothes damp. There was still some greyish residue on her skin. She collected herself and went into the shower to scrub herself clean. She felt uneasy and angry, but also a bit scared. The dreams were real and not real at the same time, and she didn’t know what to make of them. She dressed in a long robe of sorts that Irisviel had picked out for her, a robe that Saber assumed was a night garment. Damp patches of greyish water covered her bed and it didn’t look inviting at all. She went out of her room to see if she could find another place to lie down. Irisviel’s room were a couple of doors away and there was a soft light emanating from underneath her closed door. 

Saber gently knocked on the door but nobody answered. She carefully opened the door and slid in. Irisviel was deep in peaceful sleep, her white hair a halo around her face. Now Saber did something she would not normally do; she went up to the sleeping woman and touched her shoulder. 

“Irisviel,” she said, and gently prodded her awake. “Is it okay if I sleep here tonight? I can sleep on the floor if you have a spare futon.”

“We don’t have any spare futons,” Irisviel said drowsily. “But of course you can sleep here, if you need to. I’m feeling lonely tonight.”

And with that, she turned around and fell asleep again. Saber hesitated for a bit, but climbed into the bed. There was only one blanket to share, so they had to lay fairly close. Irisviel grunted in her sleep and drew Saber closer to her. Saber was a bit flustered by this development, but she did not mind having another body next to her, to be closer and more intimate than maybe they should be. She was genuinely surprised over the fact that Irisviel’s body was so cold. Not unpleasantly so, but slightly cool to the touch of her fingers. She had expected her to be warm, more like her personality and general demeanor. But maybe she had gotten cold from living amidst the snow-covered mountains for most of her life, Saber didn’t know. What she did know was that she liked the feeling of Irisviel’s skin against her own, and that there was no place she’d rather be. 

Saber didn’t sleep that night. She lay awake next to another human body and thought about nothing in particular. She didn’t do anything else apart for one other thing. She softly pressed her lips towards the nape of the Irisviel’s neck and held them still for just a second.

 

***

 

They had moved to their new base; the place they should call home from now on. It was an awfully convenient place, pretty and slightly exotic compared to the medieval castles Saber was used to. She didn’t want to admit it, because that meant approving of something Kiritsugu had done, but she was very happy that they were going to live there. Irisviel was resting, something she was doing more and more these days, and Saber was concerned over her general wellbeing. 

Saber was looking over to the couch where Irisviel was lying down, allowing herself to dwell on the softness of her skin for a second. Irisviel was reading something. Suddenly her expression darkened, and Saber, who had been studying her face intently, immediately called out to her: “What’s the matter?”

“It’s me,” she said, and her lips were quivering. “It’s me. I’m doing this to you.”

“Wait. What?”, Saber asked, bewildered and worried at the same time. 

“The dreams. It is my powers. The Einsbern powers. Alchemy. I’m doing this to you. I’m so sorry, Saber. It was me all along.” Irisviel looked straight ahead, right into her eyes, and Saber could see actual tears forming in her eyes. Saber didn’t want her to cry and she especially didn’t want to be the reason for her crying. She was not good with emotions and she _cared_ about her. Deeply even, in a way she didn’t want to admit to herself because it was a forbidden path to take. 

“Could you explain,” she asked slowly, “what is it that you have done to me?”

“Somehow, and I don’t know exactly how, I’ve been conjuring up something without even meaning to.”

“I don’t understand. Can you explain it further? What is it that you’ve done?”

“I don’t understand it fully, either. And I can’t explain it. It is something, something within me that I don’t understand. Something I can’t put my finger on. All I know is that I have been doing something to you and I don’t know how to stop.”

She was crying now. Damn. She looked Saber straight in her eyes again. 

“I’m so sorry, Saber.” 

Saber turned away. She needed gather her thoughts and to be alone for a while. But she also wanted to comfort Irisviel, even to hold her in her arms. She wanted to touch her skin and wipe her tears away. Tell her that everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t. She was standing perfectly still, body turned away, conflicting emotions running through her body. She knew that she couldn’t let herself to be ruled by her emotions; she would never allow herself to do that. Ever. 

But, still…

She turned around because she wanted to look at her. Irisviel was still crying, silent tears slowly wetting her cheeks. Saber moved towards her and sat down on the couch. She patted her hand, awkwardly. Then it happened, the thing that should not be happening, the thing that she could not allow to happen. She leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. 

Irisviel didn’t say anything, and Saber had nothing to say. Saber stood up and turned around. Without a single word uttered, she walked away, out of sight, out of the room.

Alone at last, she laid down on the futon. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about the dreams, about the war, about what to do with the serial killer and his servant. She didn’t want to think about their mission, about Kiritsugu, about being a tool for him to win the war. She didn’t want to think about Irisviel, about what she meant and represented, about kissing her lips, about her skin, or the things she might want to do with her. 

So, she thought about swords. About different kinds of blades, about sheaths, about hilts. She thought about using a sword, about utilizing her strength to strike and to harm. She thought about being a weapon, about being sharp and hard and useful. She thought about having no thoughts at all, having no feelings whatsoever, just being and doing. 

And then, nighttime rolled in and she fell asleep. 

 

***

 

She woke up in a basement on the same stained mattress that she had seen so many times before. The sheer annoyance of the repetition was finally beginning to wear her down. She pressed her knuckles against the wall and banged hard. She kicked the mattress until it turned over. She drew her sword and cut the air with angry, pointed strikes. She felt as if she wanted to scream, but she didn’t. She gritted her teeth and bore it. 

There was something so lonely about this whole experience. Saber could not sense the presence of anyone, nor could she muster up much enthusiasm for exploring. She wandered around at random, haphazardly, without putting much thought into what she was doing. The rooms felt so similar that they fell into an indistinct blur before her eyes. She was sick of the portraits, so tired of their haughty expressions and lack of joy. There was nothing left to see. She’d been everywhere. 

She found herself at the bottom of the staircase in the middle of the castle. “At least the light is pretty”, she thought to herself as she sat down to relax for a little while. As she rested her chin on her hands, she almost jumped when she heard a vague pattering of footsteps just behind her. She rose with a hand on the hilt of the sword. A vaguely familiar figure with a shapely pattern of gold around him was walking down the stairs.

“Greetings, Saber,” he said as he stood before her. 

She didn’t respond. 

“Welcome to my castle,” he said with a haughtily, amused look on his face.

“This is your castle now, Gilgamesh?” Saber asked, and there was a certain harshness in her voice. 

“I own every castle. This house is no exception.”

“Is this your work, King of Heroes?” she asked.

“This is not the work of my own, no.” He smirked. “I do not have the capacity, or the patience, for it. But I have been watching you, Saber. Watching your every move here. It has been very enlightening. And entertaining, to say the least.”

Saber was too angry to blush or to feel ashamed. She knew that he wanted to embarrass her and she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. 

“What is it that you want from me?” she said curtly. 

“I want to help you. I want you to understand something. And I want to explain a thing or two.”

“I’m not sure I need your help, _Archer_.” Her voice was full of scorn now. 

“But you do. How else are the dreams going to stop, _Saber_? Do you want to dream forever, little girl? Be stuck in your own castle? Imprisoned here forever?”

“What have you done to me?”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said. “I am merely watching. You are providing me with some good quality entertainment, much like that priest.”

Gilgamesh smiled to himself, a smile that could easily be mistaken for caring if it wasn’t so full of malice. 

“I am fond of you, Saber, so I want to elaborate on a few points. This is not a work of my own. It is the work of that women called Irisviel. Kiritsugu’s woman. The homunculus.”

“What is this thing? What are these dreams?”

“It’s a Reality Marble,” he said plainly. “Her Reality Marble.”

“Really?” Saber paused to think. “This is Irisviel’s Reality Marble?“ She didn’t know if she should be angry or intrigued. Gilgamesh resumed speaking. 

“A reality marble cannot be conjured out of thin air. It needs something to feed upon. You are close to this woman, aren’t you, Saber? You’re fond of her and she is fond of you. Your closeness has given her the ability to conjure up something for you, to give you this gift so to speak. Her Reality Marble is feeding on you, feeding on your strength, feeding on your dreams, feeding on your fears and your desires. She conjured, but you gave it to her, so one might also say that this is your work. You made your own castle to imprison yourself within.”

Saber was speechless. This was almost too much for her to bear. She understood his words completely, but she couldn’t take them in. Gilgamesh seemed awfully pleased with himself. She didn’t like him. 

“I am fond of you, Saber, and I am merciful towards my subjects. As it stands now, this cannot continue, because that woman is weak and you are getting distracted from your mission. I want to help you to destroy this castle.”

“You can destroy it? Make it vanish? I don’t have to dream anymore?”

“You are forgetting that I have my Noble Phantasm. Ea. It has tremendous power. More power than you can ever dream of, little girl. It can destroy everything when I command it to. A Reality Marble is no match for me.”

“Then, let it be so,” Saber said with her teeth gritted. 

“I will cleave your dreams in halves, Saber. You won’t dream anymore; I can promise you that.”

He took a step back and a huge light filled the room. Her eyes were momentarily blinded, but she could see something red, something powerful and unyielding. Then – a flash. The world around them split in two and then slowly vanished. They were standing on a street, not far away from where Saber was living, and a slight rain was pouring over them like tears. 

She noticed how his golden hair was getting wet and how he seemed smaller somehow. He was no longer the commandeering King of Heroes; he was more like an ordinary boy in an ordinary world. Saber mustered up a smile and looked at him. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

He smirked and arched his right eyebrow upwards.

“I can make you some dreams of my own, little girl,” he said, still smiling. “I am feeling benevolent today, so I will allow you to come with me.”

“I’m going to decline your offer, Archer. My dreams are my own now, and you are not included.”

She could see the smile vanishing from his face. 

“Goodbye,” she said and looked him in the eyes. Then she walked away with the rain dripping down over her face. She could feel his eyes on her back until she turned the corner and vanished from his sight. She wasn’t troubled.

Saber walked home in the rain, her stride brisk and assured. She knew that she wouldn’t let the dreams, and the implications that followed, impact her in any way. She also knew that she wouldn’t tell Irisviel a single thing about this, apart from the fact that it was over. She wouldn’t burden anyone with anything anymore. There was no way she would let anything distract her from her goal, her mission. If she were to allow herself to feel something – and she wouldn’t – she would have felt a certain sense of loss. But had she dared probe little bit deeper, she would know that she’d also gained something, somehow.

And the rain poured down and the war went on. 


End file.
